


Is It Any Wonder I Try?

by notinacroptop



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/F, Pre-Relationship, You had me at hello, no Malivore!Hope because it's hard to plot, penelope backstory because the show won't give it to me, posie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 01:33:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notinacroptop/pseuds/notinacroptop
Summary: Penelope Park has always been just peripheral. Josie thinks she’s attractive—has that vague, insistent picture one forms from others’ enthusiastic opinions; but right now, up close and under the obnoxiously bright fluorescent that was giving Josie’s sleep deprived mind a head ache, the way Penelope lights up in an easy smile was almost too pretty.-or- Josie and Penelope at 'Hello' and after 'Goodbye'





	Is It Any Wonder I Try?

 

_Dust floats around the prism, caught in the light that fractures from the stone and the cracks in the wooden walls of the old lookout. The balustrade she’s sitting near is missing in parts, rough to the skin of her palms and her thighs, but she still grabs tighter. No reason to hurry up her already possibly premature death. Below her feet the Salvatore estate stretches out, a steep drop. Josie fixes her collar—Penelope’s collar—and reaches for the prism her sister left in front of Penelope’s door that morning._

_It came with a note that only said, “Jo, I don’t want to lose you ever,” and Josie spent the better part of that morning curled up in her ex-girlfriend’s bed crying._

_Like Lizzie, she should talk to the image of her mom. Her mom’s sunny smile and the perk always present in every twitch of her body have been safety to her since she was in diapers. But—she closes her eyes and leans her forehead on the chipped wood, nose wrinkling at the damp smell of it. She spots it immediately when she glances down: on the floor, surrounded by the soot of a fire spell—“Property of Penelope Park—“, and as she knows was added later, “—and Josette Saltzman.”_

_“I don’t know what to say. I think I should, shouldn’t I?” she says, a buoyancy in her voice that muffles it to her own ears. “There’s so much to say.”_

_She turns her head and Penelope Park sits next to her, surveying the open space in front of them, thigh so close to Josie she can even pretend she feels the warmth of it. There’s a hum to the other girl’s smile when she faces her, and Josie thinks that maybe she isn’t all cried out as she thought when she sees that the Penelope in her mind is wearing that yellow sweater she liked borrowing from Josie, with its worn holes at the right elbow and the loose stitches of its Hufflepuff insignia—it didn’t exist anymore, a casualty of another fire spell and their break-up._

_“Well…you can always start with hello, Jojo.”_

_“Hello, Penelope.”_

****

**_Chapter One_ **

_Her Heart is Fit for Home_

 

A _fun fact_ about… _socks_ , is that in Medieval England it was a symbol of nobility, to the extent that without it one is _persona non grata_ before the King and Queen. At this particular moment though, the polka dotted one her mom knitted( _knitted?)_ her as a gift only symbolizes that Lizzie, through very little effort( _as her sister said, by Josie’s count, a total of seven times_ ) has Matt Rutherford begging for more( _also a thing her sister said_ ).

Careful not to undo her mom’s already precarious stitches, Josie Saltzman pulls it off the door knob, barred from her own room for the fourth night in a row. The laughter and music from the party thrown by the vampires carry through the open window, vivid in the empty and silent hallway, somehow piling more unto Josie’s exhaustion.

At one o’clock in the morning, she still camps in the kitchen counter, bowl of _Cap n’ Crunch_ soggy on her spoon, and at page _one hundred fifteen_ of a very questionable old book about a very questionable couple engaged in a BDSM relationship with personalities probably soggier than her cereals, that some very questionable person left in the granite _. Sometimes she really has good arguments as to why she shouldn’t share a room with Lizzie anymore._

“Oh,”—Josie drops the book, and the loud _thud_ it makes as it hits the floor has her contemplating spells to incinerate it. Instead she looks to the door with as much dignity she can muster as Penelope Park walks into the room, a vodka bottle in her hand, and a sway in her steps to match it. They’ve… _existed in the same space_ for years now but Penelope Park has always been just peripheral, hazy when mentioned. Josie thinks she’s attractive—has that vague, insistent picture one forms from others’ enthusiastic opinions; but _right now_ , _up close_ and under the obnoxiously bright fluorescent that was giving Josie’s sleep deprived mind a head ache, the way Penelope lights up in an easy smile was almost _too pretty_.

_But the last time Josie thought someone’s smile was too pretty, she blundered a love letter so badly it ended in Hope Mikaelson’s room on fire._

 “—that’s where I left that.” _So **she’s** the very questionable person_. “Was it fun?” And here Penelope’s smile turns into more of a smirk. An actual try at an eyebrow wriggle follows and Josie decides that the other girl really is wasted.

She’s at a lost on how to react to a virtual stranger teasing her about a borderline pornographic book that they **_both_** read, _and it wasn’t even a good one to cause her this stress_ , “I—I was just skimming it.”

“Sure,” Penelope says, at a tail-end of a chuckle that Josie does not appreciate, crossing over to the cabinet to grab a spoon. “I was going to spell that—read the dialogue out loud, you know, and now I wish I did that already.” Without invitation and before Josie can even say no, she was opposite her, elbows on the counter and dipping into _her_ cereal bowl. “This is…not it.” She decides after a while, looking more amused than disgusted.

“I was eating that.”

“And now we’re eating it together. Sharing is caring, twin number two.”

Josie has always been, in that _cooing_ way people address twins, ‘ _twin number two’_. It’s never bothered her before, in fact, it felt like _belonging_. With a twin number one, she never has to be afraid of truly being lonely. _But_ —Josie has not slept properly for four whole days because her sister and her boy toy ( _another thing Lizzie said_ ), has been hogging their room. All she wants, needs, if she was being dramatic, is a good eight hours of sleep. So being ‘twin number two’ doesn’t hold the same sentimentality today. 

“Hey.” Her internal panic that her sister’s ill-timed romance is going to last until exams week is interrupted by Penelope knocking the back of their spoons together. When she glances at her, Penelope leans closer—and Josie has the uncomfortable thought that she’d probably spend a few days stealing absent glances at her because _well...she really is quite beautiful_ and Josie, though a witch, is only human. “It’s Josie, right?”

She wonders why it was placating that Penelope Park says that like she clearly knows what her name was from the start.

“…yes.”

A beat follows where the other witch spells that _god forsaken_ book back up the table, shooting Josie another smile, so pleased that her cheeks bunch up, far too cute for someone who dared to hex the school’s intercom system so that her dad spent a month sounding like _Donald Duck_. “Wanna do this together?” she says, waving the book around with a finger.

 _Is she_ —? Josie really is letting Lizzie have it this time. 

Each back and forth the levitated book makes, Josie can feel as distinctly as the heat spreading from the tip of her ears. She should just leave instead of letting herself be Penelope Park’s entertainment. “I’m just…going to go. Goodnight.” Penelope was laughing even before Josie stops speaking, and if not for the fact that the thought of an incoming confrontation just makes her headache worse, she would have cursed _silentium_ at the other witch.

“No, wait—wait. I’m sorry. I’ll stop teasing.” Penelope reaches out to wrap cold fingers around her wrist, and because it was so casual Josie stopped. _Yes,_ growing up with a vampire for a mother, and with a whole school of ‘things that go bump in the night’ diminished the weirdness that Josie feels—but she was still a _siphoner_ and with a single touch she can quite literally take magic away. They were built that way _and every witch in Salvatore knows it_. “The sexy scenes in this book are _garbage_. I’m sorry. What am I even trying to do making an innuendo out of it?”

“You don’t sound that sorry.” _And the quality of the book isn’t really Josie’s problem_.

“I’ll try better next time” Penelope mock whispers. “Let’s do the spell. It’ll be fun.”

“Is the party really that boring?”

The book drops in Penelope’s waiting hand and she turns a page, “Look, I passed the kitchen at _nine_ on my way to the party and you were already sitting here. I get back at _one_ and to my surprise—and judgment, if I was being honest—you’re still here.” She turns another page, and it was a very small comfort for Josie that she didn’t look up at her, “I wanted to ask why you were apparently having the time of your life here, all alone in the kitchen. I’m nosy like that.” It was almost startling how green her eyes seem when she finally glances up, and Josie would have preferred to look away but since her whole face is burning up she figures that would just add to the pathetic of it all. “But then again, I don’t think we know each other enough for you to tell me and for me not to _possibly_ lose interest in the middle of it.”

Josie has never been comforted in this way before; she’s late in the realization, _but that was it, right?_ Although odd— _and brash_ —Penelope Park is actually trying to be sweet. She didn’t think she cut such a sad figure, but with the mushy cereals and the hunch borne of negotiating her height with the counter, maybe she should have clued in earlier. “Come on, Josie. This book is really hilarious, I promise.” And now that she knows the other girl is just being nice, she recognizes the strain of apprehension in her care-free tone, notices the way she loops tendrils of her hair _up, up, and up_ her pointer finger.

 _So she decides to stay._ “Okay. But if you get caught and implicate me, I’ll deny it to my dad. I’m telling you now.”

Penelope just rolls her eyes and turns another page. “Please, you’re obviously a daddy’s girl. You’d be bursting to tell on the both of us tomorrow morning.”

The vodka bottle is emptied— _by Penelope, with a two sip contribution by Josie_ ; the cereal bowl replenished and shared again after continuous complaints about the taste of it— _again by Penelope_ ; and the vampire soiree finished, by the time they complete the spells. And Josie **thinks** they actually had a good time. That isn’t to say that it wasn’t awkward at parts. On the surface, they had nothing in common after all. But Penelope is gracious with her laughter—even if sometimes it’s at Josie’s complete bewilderment, and it was kind of easy to find things amusing with someone _that_ determined to have fun.

They were far from friends at the end of it, but Josie can say that she actually enjoyed passing time with Penelope Park.

“I should go.” She says, and Penelope faces her, snigger from the last passage of the book still lingering on her shoulders. Her chin on the back of a hand, the other girl looked lazy as she leans on the counter, and for a moment Josie remembers the girl that the rumour mill created in her mind, someone that’s far too intimidating and different for Josie to ever form her own opinions about. But then Penelope smiles that same smile that plumps up her cheeks, and Josie thinks that it… _might_ be nice to know her more. “Thank you. For keeping me company, I mean. Although we’ll probably get detention tomorrow and I’ll probably not be thanking you then.”

“This negativity…” Penelope answers, pretending annoyance with a quick scrunch of her nose, “but thank you too, I guess. It wasn’t an entirely bad time, Josie.”

“I had fun _too_ , Penelope.”

 

**||||**

It was five in the morning when pillow meets face, hers in particular; Lizzie’s chatter an airy swirl spreading around the room.  The mattress sinks next to her arm and Josie grunts as her sister lies across her back, “Jo, I’m sorry. I just totally forgot myself. I mean, he just can’t get enough of me— _and I can’t really blame him_.”

Lizzie only half way means that as a joke and Josie can’t help but laugh. “You’re ridiculous. But it’s fine, Lizzie. Just maybe make it so that he’s not as… infatuated with you during exams.” The pillow made it hard to talk and she tries the words thrice before her sister isn’t teasing her with gurgled noises anymore.

“It’ll be hard. He’s really just so into me, but I’ll try.”

Her twin was already expecting it, with a quick jerk away and a histrionic shriek, when Josie pulls the pillow from under her head to hit Lizzie with it.

 

**||||**

_In the morning, the book was causing a pandemonium._

It was everywhere, flapping pages up in the air—in the cafeteria, disturbing the usual morning chatter and clatter of utensils with moans, and passionate declarations of ‘ _he’s moving inside me, really moving,_ ’—brought into classes as a joke, making it hard to hear incantations with all the grunts, and metaphors about…oral sex,—and finally, on top of the podium as her father places a heavy hand on its cover while the book still narrates about masturbation with a towel.

“This…prank has caused enough troubles today. Whoever cast this spell and the shield on this book, undo it now. You have caused enough disturbances. We do not teach you magic for you to waste it on these kinds of things.”

“So tasteless.” Lizzie says.

Josie can barely keep herself seated from mortification.

Feeling like a branded suspect and half expecting her father to name her, she looks back to the row of seats that’s usually occupied by her co-conspirator’s coven. Penelope was already looking at her, grin only growing when their eyes meet. ‘So sexy,’ she mouths, and _Josie really cannot believe her gall_. She winks at Josie, and then sends the book flying out of her father’s grip, presumably ( _hopefully_ ) breaking the shield spell she cast on it. Taking advantage of the sudden static from her dad fumbling the microphone, Josie incinerates it with a whisper.

The girl almost got her detention— _by her own father_ —so Josie definitely doesn’t think that the delight practically beaming out of Penelope, when she looks back at her again, is in any way cute.

**||||**

Penelope is sitting at the counter when Josie got banished again to the kitchen that night, lips pursed and eyes dull as she magically keeps a pair of knife and fork working on a plate of blueberry pancakes. A grave voice carries across the room from her phone, listing off dates of accidents in a family cursed by an old witch—Penelope scoffs.

She hesitates in the doorway. It was just last night but _this_ Penelope Park is already a memory to Josie. A fellow dancer in the witch routine for talent week, a table mate when the library is full, and a pretty drunk girl who passed time with her: similarly, they were usually a singular moment for Josie, warranting a nod and a smile once in a while in the halls. _As she said, vague when mentioned._

“If normies knew witches were as _oh so adorable_ as you in your space buns, they’d stop describing them as old hags.” It was more of a tease than a compliment, but still Josie _oddly_ wanted it—that familiarity in Penelope’s tone.

“If they knew _some_ witches liked using their magic for juvenile pranks, they wouldn’t be as scared.” Josie answers, trying not to sound _too friendly_ because it felt safer to stay on the line of banter, especially since she knows she tends to care _too much_ and Penelope Park has _too much of a bite_ to be entirely safe for Josie. Penelope, however, apparently has no scruples about crossing lines drawn in the sand and transfers to the seat Josie purposely left empty between them. When she brings out the book she managed to snag off their shelf—before Lizzie and Matt’s hormones chased her off their room—a manicured finger prevents her from opening it as her… _companion_ reads the title. “Aww…no kinky sex this time?”

“I’ve decided never to read books left by maniacs.” She says, pulling the book away to open it, “You can—” she turns to the first page, feeling embarrassment creep up her neck, “You can read with me if you’d like, Penelope.”

Penelope responds by scooting her chair even closer, and leaning into Josie’s space, strands of long hair curling on her arm, fingers warm on her wrist as the older girl adjusts the book for better view.

Josie takes a deep breath—and later when Penelope is turning the page for Josie, she didn’t have the heart to tell her that she hasn’t even finished the first paragraph yet, the sound of the other witch’s low murmurs and the blood pumping in her own ears proving too distracting.

 “You want some?” ‘ _Some_ ’ was the pancake, but—

“I can’t. I’m vegan.”

Penelope just shrugs but the next four nights the pancakes are made with soy milk. She still reads with _that_ voice but at least sometimes she plays around forcing Josie to read in character with her— _Josie breaths better then_.

**||||**

_On exams week, Lizzie keeps her promise to keep their room holy._ Josie **is** happy she didn’t need to hang around the kitchen again. _She definitely doesn’t try to sneak a longer glance at Penelope Park when she passes her on the way to class._

**||||**

As tradition, after the exams a party’s held at the old mill, and although Josie would rather not replace the throbbing in her head from the _potions chemistry test_ with a hangover the next morning, she figures a few drinks wouldn’t hurt—it specially wouldn’t hurt poor MG who has been taking Lizzie’s burgeoning relationship a tad too hard. In contrast to the mason jars of luminesce potions lining the stone path and chaotically hanging from trees, the slump in his posture is unmistakable when they arrive and Lizzie passes by his ‘It’s my favourite girls!’ without even a glance to find Matt.

“It’s like an arrow to my chest.” He tells her, taking a considerable swig from his beer. “Why am I so short, Jo? I’m dwarf against an Elven prince.” MG had taken a lot of arrows in his chest from Lizzie since as far as Josie can remember—he probably still will in the future, and so she just puts an arm around his shoulders, leads him back to the mill and reassures him that _for her_ no guy would ever be as good-looking.

When they reach the makeshift bar, cramped with students shouting orders and witches spelling ‘ _venite ad me_ ’ over the music, it was a wonder that she sees Penelope almost immediately, laughing as she levitates a shot glass to pour alcohol in another witch’s mouth. The girl’s fingers tremble from the flow of magic, and Josie’s fingers tremble from… _something_ as she traces her eyes up the necklace sitting on Penelope’s chest to her neck as she throws her head back to drink her own shot. A sputter from sudden laughter leads to those fingers trailing her bottom lip— _and the way it sinks_ …

Josie takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. _So this is what it feels like to be a vampire_.

She drags MG away from the bar after that to join the cluster by the staircase. Penelope’s laughter carries in the room though, and through her third glass, Josie finds herself peeking at her again, the slosh in colour throwing her off more than the drink itself. It drops a certain type of weight that settles more heavily than the alcohol that Penelope never glances at her once—probably didn’t know, _or care_ , that Josie is even there at all _. Why would she when she can dance close with another girl, holding conversation almost like a kiss to the tip of her ear_? She hates that she knows that the drop in Penelope’s voice and the drag at the start of her words fall so warmly on skin that it can’t be anything but enticing.

“—and it’s really harshing my mellow, Jo. Am I invisible?” _But this_ —this one is simple. MG’s sighs come into focus, the perspiring bottle held close to his chest with both hands, and she feels bad for thinking it but this is almost _too perfect_ , if there’s anything that comes _oh so_ easily for her it’s the quickness to which she can shove all her problems away to worry about someone else’s.

 _Josie ends up in the kitchen at the end of the night anyway_. Insufficiently drunk, since she spent all her time cheering MG up while Lizzie and Matt hang all over each other just inches away from them, she can’t even blame the pounding of expectation in her chest on alcohol. She seems to have carried the party with her because the electronic bass still beats in her ears, and her fingers and toes still feel jittery. A glass of water poured— _and going down like she was drowning_ , the whole of ‘ _My Favorite Things’_ tapped into the counter, and perhaps five swivels of her chair— _just one more and she’ll leave, each time_ , were all it took before Josie feels like she’s going to be sick.

( _What is she even doing? Penelope Park’s probably cuddled up with that girl right now while she’s in here._ )

( _She should leave_ )

( _It wasn’t even anything, my god. Out of everyone why did she think it can even be her for Penelope; or Penelope for her? It’s just a bad idea overall. Josie can’t keep her interest and it will just end in tears._ )

( _She should leave_ )

“ _Oh._ You’re here.” _Of course. Of course, she’ll come when Josie is about to go_. “I didn’t really think you would be since I—well I saw you at the party but then you were suddenly gone. So I thought fuck _it_ and took a chance.” It is kind of infuriating, because Josie can’t help it that Penelope is so _special_ —that everyone is attracted to the way her eyes soften and her lips press together in something that feels intimate when she smiles, to the way her tone dips to an interest that seems almost gentle. _This was her general effect, isn’t it_? But why does Josie’s chest hurt like she wants to own it, to have Penelope _be special to her only_. _She’s not used with wanting to own_.

When the girl walks over to her it felt like the first time they found each other here, a drunken sway in Penelope’s steps, and a surprised affirmation setting a different beat to Josie’s heart that _yes, Penelope Park is distractingly beautiful_. But unlike then Penelope isn’t a vague thing suddenly in focus, Josie thinks that she can remember what she looks like— _what it feels like_ —even if she closes her eyes.

“I was getting…” Josie raises the empty glass, giving it a little shake that she regrets almost immediately when it almost slips from her fingers. Biting back a smile, Penelope takes the glass from her and Josie follows its descent on the counter just to avoid the girl’s steady gaze.

“I don’t get you, Josie.” A book slides next to the glass, the title ‘ _Some Fun Trivia About Virginia_ ’ taking up most of the cover space. “I’m pretty sure you were staring at me the whole time you were sitting there with MG.” It wasn’t teasing in Penelope’s voice, it almost sounded like frustration and when Josie tries to deny it, she just rolls her eyes. “You were staring at me and I—” she says, in a tone so pointed it would just be pitiful to deny it again, “was staring at you—” her words turn into a titter, tilting her head to meet Josie’s eyes, “in the party, in the _damn_ hallways, in the cafeteria, and _thank god_ we don’t have classes together because probably there too.”

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this.” That was a lie. It’s pretty obvious where this was going but even if she waited here for Penelope, Josie’s now so terrified. She’s felt like this before and it just ended in another lie that Josie still has nightmares of— _that her sister and Hope deal with the consequences of everyday_. Now that she wants her like this, the fear of what she _could do_ to have her is almost suffocating. “I don’t understand what we’re doing, Penelope.” The catch of breath in her voice must have given her away, because the edges of frustration melts in Penelope’s frame, and when she wraps her fingers around Josie’s wrist, a tentative touch against her pulse, it felt like reassurance.

“You know I was trying to make you jealous earlier since it is _seriously_ so hard to tell if you want me—and I’m not trying to brag but I’ve never really had to guess before if someone was into me.” Josie averts her eyes and even she knows that’s confirmation enough. “I borrowed this book last week—” she pulls on Josie’s hand to tap the book with her knuckles, “—to show you but you weren’t here. You weren’t here the next day and the day after that…and _shocker_ , not there as well the day after. It’s kind of pathetic now that I think about it…but I waited here every night anyway.” Silence follows after that and Penelope just shrugs a clear ‘ _so what do you have to say about that?_ ’ when Josie looks at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t know what to feel about this.” Josie says, wincing because that sounded so whiny, “—and it didn’t really look like you were just _trying_ to make me jealous earlier, you looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

Penelope leans closer, the scrape of the glass against the surface as she moves it away from between them a jolt in Josie’s ears; but it didn’t affect the other girl, frustration sharp again in Penelope’s eyes. She loosens her hold on Josie’s wrist, “I know. That was stupid I was trying to play mind games but you’re not the type, _I knew that_ —though…it kind of worked. You _seem_ jealous,” she says, and Josie glares at her smirk. “Oh, Josie, you _so_ were.”

“Even _if_ I was, I don’t appreciate you playing games with me.”

“But that’s part of my charm.”

Josie tries to stop her smile but can’t when Penelope mocks a pose, a hand against her cheek in presentation of her batting eyes. The tension breaks away with their laughter and Josie’s overwhelmed by the fact that sometimes it can just be _so easy_ between them.

“ _Fine_. At the risk of sounding like a kid, I like you, you like me.” Penelope says, pointing at Josie and then herself, taking an audible inhale when Josie doesn’t deny it, “I’ll just say what I want and then—if you want it too, you only have to say yes.” Josie can’t deny that it was so attractive that Penelope’s gaze fails to falter even when her voice breaks, that the other witch is so unafraid to show what she feels. “I want to know more about you. After we meet each night I wished I asked— _so many things_ , and I think I’ve lost sleep just from curiosity. And it’s not the same coming from someone else. I want to know it from you— _just you_.” When tentative fingers touch the back of her neck with a light press closer, tuck away strands of her hair, and leave her cheeks burning when it was barely brushed, Josie somehow expected it— _maybe from the first time, she knew she was going to kiss Penelope Park_. “I want you.”

The electric bass starts in Josie’s ears again, louder and louder as Penelope’s breathing gets heavier, her fingers digging a little deeper on Josie’s nape as she pushes against the edge of the counter to meet her halfway—when Penelope licks her lips, she can almost feel it, and every exhale out of her mouth feels like a pull on Josie’s own. “I’d kiss you…but it’s not as fun when we both expect it. So if you want me too, you’ll have to be the one to do it.”

 _Josie kisses her. Of course, she did_.

**||||**

“ _Hey,_ ” _Penelope says,_ _breaking the silence between them, knocking her bedroom slipper against Josie’s shoe. Every time she sees it collide without feeling anything, Josie feels like crying again. “—my clothes look really good on you but you know where they’d look even better, on--”_

_“Do you regret it?” Josie interrupts, expecting that innuendo, “Do you regret that it was me? That you wasted your time on me?”_

_Penelope’s sigh of absolute exasperation prompts Josie to look at her, “I’m you too, Josette! You know I don’t. I’d have done this all over again—which is just crazy. You make me crazy.” And maybe Josie really will never forget Penelope Park because the mocking in her tone and the sincerity always in her eyes to undercut it are so accurate, it kind of hurts to look at her._

_“I wish I can hold your hand, Pen.”_

_The prism image flickers as Penelope offers her palm, “So why didn’t you?”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I started writing this after 1x14 after the staircase and the dance practice scene just made me wonder so hard how Penelope and Josie were when they dated. I haven't taken 1x16 in consideration for this chapter yet.
> 
> The hiatus is pretty long so please talk to me about Posie if you have the time: @maybeovaltine or cc: dugonggie
> 
> Update: This is supposed to be a chaptered fic because I was really feeling Posie but after my laptop broke I can't retrieve the next chapter anymore so I've just decided to let this be a stand-alone


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